Deathly Reality
by ruan-san
Summary: As it turns out, the Deathly Hallows did not, in fact, make one the Master of Death. Rather, the Master of all Reality. TR/HG


**Author's Note: So, this is the second to last new story that I will be posting in a while. In case you haven't read the other ones, basically, whichever story gets the better response, will be updated sooner. Right now it looks like I'll be posting the next chapter of The Extraordinary Inner Hermione (HP/Naruto xover) first. Anyway, this story is one of the more mature ones I've ever even _thought_ of writing. It is another Tomione, but it's not a time-travel one like last time. And, no, it's also not one of those stories where Hermione was already born in 1940 or whenever. This is cannon compliant, until around mid-Deathly Hallows. Hope you guys like it. **

**Disclaimer: This will be the one and only disclaimer in this story so I'm making sure you all understand here and now that _I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING FROM HARRY POTTER. IT ALL BELONGS TO JK ROWLING. GOT IT?_ Good.**

* * *

**Deathly Reality**

Hermione straightened her new Head Girl badge nervously for the umpteenth time, eyes flickering to the door again. She had been ever so pleased to receive news of her Head status, but now that she was on the train, waiting in the Heads' compartment for the Head Boy to show up, she couldn't stop fidgeting uncomfortably. Her hand flew to her blue and silver tie, about to loosen it again, but she managed to stop herself. After all, she would only end up tightening it up again afterwards.

She thought about who would be her co-head. She knew of a few fellow Ravenclaws that were perfectly eligible, but she wasn't sure how Dippet would feel about having two Ravenclaws as Heads. She honestly didn't know many Hufflepuffs, but she thought that the Diggory boy would make a fine Head Boy—smart, kind, well liked, and just a good person in general. She only hoped the new Head Boy wouldn't be a Slytherin. Or worse, one of those mean Gryffindor boys that always teased her about being a know-it-all. The only kind Gryffindors she knew were her best friends: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Since she knew there was no way either of them could have possibly made Head Boy—what with all their rule-breaking and shinnanegans—that only left the people in Gryffindor that hated her.

Never mind, she didn't care who the Head Boy was, as long as he wasn't Gryffindor.

Hermione glanced at the door again, jumping when she realized that she wasn't looking at the door anymore. Rather, she was looking at the very male chest in front of said door. She frowned slightly at the obviously Slytherin tie sticking out underneath his robes, her eyes moving up to see a handsome face expressing his amusement.

"I was wondering when you would notice me standing here," he said, languidly sitting on the seat across from her.

"I'm sorry, I was...thinking," she said lamely, embarrassed by her lack of attention to her surroundings.

"Yes, I could tell," he replied smoothly, not saying anything further.

"Um...I'm sorry but... Who are you?"

"That's the second time you've apologized to me in one minute," the boy said with a raised eyebrow, noting blankly the flush that rose to her cheeks. "My name is Tom Riddle," he informed her, holding out his hand in a polite gesture.

"Oh, I'm Hermione Granger," she responded in kind, taking his hand in hers, a smile on her face now. Tom seemed like a nice enough guy, maybe a little standoffish (what else did she expect from a Slytherin?), but still nice. Of course, she should have known that the Head Boy would be someone who was capable of being polite, otherwise Dippet wouldn't have even appointed him the task, but after all of her worrying, it was a pleasant surprise.

"It's strange," she began, attempting to make conversation with the boy that she would be working with for the next year, "We've been going to the same school for six years now and we've never once spoken to each other!"

"Indeed. What's more, you didn't even know my name!" Tom teased good-naturedly.

Hermione blushed indignantly, "It's not as if you knew my name."

"Of course I did, Miss Brightest-Witch-of-her-Year. I'd be surprised if there were anyone who _didn't_ know your name."

"Stop it," Hermione whined pathetically, attempting to hide her even redder face from him by looking out the window.

"Oh, don't do that Miss Granger," Tom said, still teasing. "It's alright if you didn't know my name. I like to keep a low profile."

"I'm sure," Hermione drawled once she finally regained some of her composure. "Or perhaps you were just not worth noticing," she quipped, allowing herself to smirk when he reacted to her sudden change of attitude with a gaping mouth.

"What—" he managed, still a bit too shocked to say much else.

"You know, the gaping fish look doesn't really suit you—it's rather unattractive, actually. Why don't you try another, more _appealing_ expression," she chided, taping her chin pensively.

Immediately, his mouth closed shut, a fierce glare replacing the shock.

"Hmm...No, that's not much better. Have you ever tried smiling? A genuine one. I hear it does wonders for the soul."

Tom rolled his eyes at this, responding sarcastically, "What soul?"

And although Hermione knew full well that he was joking, her eyes narrowed of their own accord, words echoing in her mind at the rhetorical question. There was a flash of pain in her head, and suddenly she was clutching at it as if to repress the pain. She let out a little whimper, barely hearing Riddle's concerned calls of her name. Soon, she felt the pull of unconsciousness, readily giving into it if it meant not having to feel the pain.

As her mind went blank, one word repeated itself until she became completely unaware of everything.

_Horcrux._

* * *

**AN: So what did you guys think? It'll be confusing at first, but I promise things will be explained as the story goes on. **


End file.
